


The Maze of the Mind

by Chip_Tater



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Adult Content, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Asexual Character, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Love, Cranks (Maze Runner), Drugs, Gen, Grievers, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, LGBTQ Character, Major Illness, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Protective Siblings, Psychological Trauma, The Maze Runner Spoilers, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chip_Tater/pseuds/Chip_Tater
Summary: SPOILERS ahead! This is not the movie-verse! So, if you haven't read the books then I suggest that you do so before reading this fic. I actually had to reread the books before I wrote this fic to make sure I got everything right - plot and character-wise. Warnings are in the tags.---The time for lies is over.They fought to escape. And in the end, they found paradise.





	The Maze of the Mind

The sun was so bright, shining like some sort of beacon in the sky. Around it, there were dense clouds that looked like beautiful balls of cotton candy. _Cotton candy._ It had been so long, he remembered the appearance and the feel but he couldn't remember the taste. He still couldn't remember a lot of things. The memories that he did have, it was all after the fact. But what about before? What about the happier times? Thomas stared down at his hands and let out a long, deep sigh. They were dirty and felt rough from all the gardening work that he did earlier today. They managed to find some potatoes to grow. And they planted apple seeds but some of the group was convinced that wasn't going to work. There was only one way to find out, though. Jack ran his fingers over the palm of his other hand, fully exploring the rough calluses that marked his palm. Under and around the edges of his fingernails was dirt and grit. There was a strong earthy smell emitting from not just his hands but his entire body. As well as a pungent smell of sweat. He was a mess. But he didn't want to shower just yet. They barely had any homes to sleep in. They had no electricity here. There were only a couple of rabbits or squirrels running around. Honestly, Thomas felt as though they were back in the Glade all over again. Except with more than a handful less people and no grievers to hunt them down. The forest that surrounded them may as well have served as the Maze since it was so damn confusing. It was so dense that barely any sunlight ever shone through. It was always dark and had a cold, lonely aura emitting from it. Thomas wasn't so fond of this place. He and his friends had only been here a week. But even still, he didn't feel as though he was home. He didn't feel as though this was a fresh start. He felt... Empty and cold. Thomas clenched his fists and grit his teeth, staring intensely at the ground below him. At the moment, he sat on a small cliff overlooking the lake. The waves beat on the rocks gently, spreading wide over the sand that stretched into grassy plains. It was certainly breathtaking here. But what if that was the point? 

"Keep staring like that and you burn a damn hole in the ground."

Minho's voice echoed behind Thomas as footsteps slowly came into focus. They crunched behind him gently as he came closer, Minho's form slowly appearing at his left side. He was as dirty as Thomas was, as sweaty and smelly. Tromping all afternoon in the dark forest would do that, but neither of them seemed too bothered by their appearances. Minho gently nudged Thomas with his shoulder, a curious expression washing over his features. "What's on your mind? Come on, talk to me." Minho's voice held a firm tone, but his features remained soft. Both of them knew what happened when one kept things bottled up too long. They knew what happened when the pain became too much for one person to bear alone. They knew what would happen if they didn't lean on each other and find ways to cope with everything they had been through. They knew. Thomas knew. But he shook his head and chewed his lip, looking out into the vast lake. It was shimmering so gorgeously under the bright sun. Like a million diamonds just below the surface.

"It's nothing." His words were barely above a whisper, as though he changed his mind as he spoke them. It wasn't nothing. There was so much on his mind, it felt like his head was going to explode. But he also knew that talking about it never did him any good. Expressing his pain, sharing his worries and fears; it was pointless. After all, they were safe now, right? It was over. Right? It was just what he was programmed to now - to distrust everything and everyone. He would get over that eventually. He would find a way to find happiness again. He had to. For people like Minho, Frypan, and every other person who survived. For them, he would cut a smile into his face if he had to. The thought of that made Thomas' heart flutter a bit as a distant memory barely grazed his brain. _Again, it's just out of reach._

Minho let out a long sigh as he shook his head and tossed a tiny pebble over the edge of the cliff. The sound it made when it connected with the water was completely eradicated by the sounds of crashing waves and distant birds chirping happily. _That sounds like lunch. I wonder if those are the little sparrow things that Fry made last time. Those weren't that great, honestly._ "It's not nothing. And I know that you know that I know that. And I know you know that I'm not going to stop until I find out what's bugging you. Now come on and speak up, shuck face!" Immediately, Minho froze, realizing what he just said. A day after arriving here, in this supposed paradise, they all agreed on a couple of things. One thing was that they would never utter the slang that they used in the Glade. That was behind them. That was part of a past they didn't want to have to be reminded about. This was a fresh start. And that language was not going to be a part of it. "I'm sorry." Minho finally muttered, staring out at the lake with Thomas.

For about an hour, neither of them moved or spoke. They just sat there and stared. They knew they had work to do, there was a lot of work to do, but for now a moment of quiet would be good for them. "What if this isn't real?" Thomas' voice sounded relatively calm, but there was an underlying tone of fear. He was afraid, but he had gotten pretty good at hiding it from others, usually. This time, though, Thomas wasn't so hellbent on hiding it. He was scared. _I'm scared._ He wanted Minho to know but he didn't want to say it outright. It was childish, he knew but given everything he's been through, he was sure he was allowed a few times to be childish. _Given that my entire childhood was taken away from me as far as I know._

Thomas finally looked over at Minho. He never did answer the question and Thomas wanted to know if thought the same thing. By the look on his face, it had crossed his mind a few times. At least once at some point. Minho pursed his lips tightly together, looking back out to the lake. "Thomas, I know it isn't perfect. But this is our home now. And I know this is a lot to ask, especially after everything but... We have no choice. We have to trust this place and do what we can to survive." Thomas visibly cringed at those words, his eyes darkening as he recalled the things he was told in the Glade. _Trust us. Just listen and do as you're told. Don't get killed. Survive._ It was all the same. There was nothing different.

"How am I supposed to trust this place? How do you know we didn't just wind up at some secure location that WICKED set up for us? How do we know this isn't just another test, another game, another stupid experiment?!" Thomas' voice was raising now, cracking and going slightly hoarse. He hadn't had anything to drink in a few hours now. He had barely eaten anything in the past four hours. He had no appetite anymore. Everything screamed poison or danger of some kind. He couldn't trust anything anymore.

Minho understood where he was coming from. He understood Thomas' anguish. But what other choice did they have? "I don't know, Thomas. I have no goddamn idea! But what do you want me to do? Start throwing rocks at the sky, see if it hits something? Start digging in the ground to see if we find another box?" Minho huffed and shook his head, looking away. "I don't want to live like that anymore. I don't want to doubt everything all over again. For once, I feel as though we're finally free. So just... Do me a favor and try to stop worrying so much. It's okay now." Minho was never really good at comforting people. He did his best, but his best wasn't always enough. Thomas didn't say anything more and just gave a defeated nod, staring back out at the lake. The sun was dipping lower now; it was likely about one or two in the afternoon. After another long bout of silence, Minho stood and began to walk away. He had nothing more to say to Thomas. And Thomas had nothing more to say to him. For the next couple of hours, Thomas sat and stared at the lake in complete silence. Brenda brought him some food, but he refused to eat. It wasn't until Frypan basically ordered him to eat and not waste food that Thomas attempted to get something down. He ate half of it before he gave up. And then he was more exhausted than before. Thankfully, Minho decided that he should take the rest of the day off. He was clearly not in the right head space for anything right now. He was barely responsive, looking at people with dead eyes and speaking to people with no real emotion behind his words. Some people started to believe that Thomas was actually dead, just stuck roaming senselessly in his body.

Thomas wasn't able to sleep by the time that night came. He was basically forced into the homestead that was finally on the border of being finished. It wasn't much better built than the one in the Glade. But it was the best they could do given the tools that they had right now. Which wasn't all that much of anything, really. There was no box like in the Glade that gave them supplies. They had to find supplies. They had to make their own homes and everything. They were starting completely from scratch. Honestly, the fact that they made it this far with what they had or found was astonishing. 

Thomas stared at the bare walls of the room he was in, his eyes glazed over with a longing yet defeated expression. There was nothing but the bed he laid on and a janky wooden dresser at the other end of the room. It was put together as though someone was drunk and high at the same time. Thomas barely knew it was a dresser - it was higher on the right side than it was on the left side, the drawers were both thin on one end and thicker towards the other end, and it was too tall to be a dresser. It looked more like some sort of messed up file cabinet. That being said, it was skinnier than dressers usually were. Not to mention, the drawers were all uneven sizes; one was longer, the second was shorter and the third one was too square-ish and not even rectangular. _Who the fuck built that?_ Thomas narrowed his eyes a bit and turned over onto his other side. Now he was staring at the other wall. It smelled like sawdust and dirty feet. _Great. Just great._ Thomas groaned and shut his eyes for a moment. It was relatively quiet outside even though most people were still mucking about. People liked watching the stars as it was something they didn't really have in the Glade. They liked feeling the natural wind and listening to the waves crash on the shore. It was relaxing, they always told Thomas. And maybe they were right. But lately, he couldn't seem to relax. He was always on edge and looking behind himself. _Are they coming? Are they going to hurt us again? Please, no more._

Thomas felt tears stinging his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. _Not now. Don't you dare!_ Thomas gulped and took a deep breath, slowly opening his eyes again. He was surprised to see another set of eyes staring back at him. But they weren't normal. Their sclera was beginning to turn red in the corners. Their pupils were overly dilated and their irises were dark in color, lacking any form of sane emotion. Their lips were curled into a large scowl with drool heavy on their lips and slowly dribbling down their chin. There was also blood on their face, staining the very ends of their blond hair and staining their already bruised lips. Thomas recognized them immediately and he felt his chest tighten to the point that he couldn't breathe. His heart began to hammer in his chest and everything around that face began to spin quickly. Thomas started to hyperventilate, completely frozen with fear.

"Kill me..."

They begged him. They pleaded and cried. They wailed and fought. Thomas whimpered as he felt something heavy in his hands. It was cold and felt sticky. Thomas didn't want to look, he already knew what it was. And soon enough, as though someone else was controlling his body, his hand shot towards his friend's head. The barrel of the gun pressed against the side of their head, shaking lightly as Thomas tried so hard to fight it. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't. Thomas felt tears prick his eyes again, this time he was unable to hold them back. "Please, Newt, I can't do this-"

"KILL ME!" The scream was so sudden, so raw and feral. Thomas screamed and the next thing he heard was a loud gunshot, echoing in the empty room. He leapt up in his bed and clawed at the afterimage of his best friend. But Newt was gone now, nothing but a distant memory. Thomas couldn't stop now, sobbing freely and heavily. His chest heaved, his heart sank and his mind was a tumbling mess of turmoil. He didn't realize how loud he had been until he heard someone screaming over his sobbing, gathering him into their arms. The familiar female voice gently cooed in his ear, shushed him and tried to comfort him. But she could never understand. She could never begin to cease the pain that he felt deep inside. Thomas sobbed almost all night in her arms, until he finally passed out from exhaustion. But he didn't rest peacefully, he couldn't. All he ever saw were his friends' faces. All he ever heard were their final words. 

* * *

Minho didn't know what to do. All night, he had to listen to the screams and sobs of his best friend. He didn't know what exactly plagued Thomas but he knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good. He also didn't know how to help. He didn't know what to say or do to ease Thomas' mind. The best that Minho could come up with was to let Thomas work through it on his own. If he could, that is. But Minho didn't want to think about if he couldn't. After about an hour of listening to Thomas wail, he decided he had enough. He was going for a run to clear his mind and hopefully when he came back it would be over. A few times now Minho had gone for a run through the forest and then back around to the homestead. When things got particularly tough and he didn't want to think anymore, he ran - though he knew that sounded bad out of context. Shoving on his old beat up shoes, Minho quickly made his way out of the little little establishment and across the green plains. The grass waved back and forth as the wind brushed through it, rising up high in the sky and disappearing. Minho looked up at the moon, admiring how bright it was for a moment before he suddenly broke out into a run and headed straight for the forest. It was so dark and dense. It would be hard to see anything in there. But he knew the paths and he knew where he needed to be more careful. After running it a few times, he was quick to remember the routes. _Damn. It really is like the Maze._

Minho tried not to think about it as he brushed by the tall trees and barely dodged the jagged branches that hung too low. He only wore his short sleeved tee and his dark sweats, which didn't help all that much against the cold. But he would live. It wasn't _that_ cold. And he had succumbed to far worse than a little bit of a chill in the air. Being careful to stay on the path, Minho kept his eyes peeled for anything that might've been out of place. The minute he realized he was doing that, though, he immediately stopped and punched the air as he growled lowly. "Goddamn it, Thomas. Putting these freaking thoughts in m head."

He felt safe. For once, he felt like he didn't have to fear for his life. And now Thomas had him thinking that maybe that wasn't quite the truth. Deep down, Minho knew that Thomas might have been right. But he just wanted a little more time to relax and let go of that heavy, lonely and miserable weight that always rested on his shoulders. And now, like a boulder or a wrecking ball, it was crushing him once again. Minho took a few deep breaths as he looked around with his hands on his hips. It was so dark, and there wasn't a creature in sight. It was deathly silent. Too silent. Minho usually enjoyed the quiet, the gentle sound of the branches swaying and the leaves rustling. But now it was just eerie and unsettling. As much as Minho was upset with Thomas for putting those thoughts into his head, he didn't blame the guy, either. Thomas was frightened. That much was obvious. And so was Minho. He was always scared every time the security unit went out. He was always afraid that he would never see them again. He was afraid when he went out, wondering what he might run into this time. Would it be a rabbit, or some otherworldly creature straight from the realm of nightmares?

Minho dug his foot into the earth a bit, chewing his lip as he looked around once more. Maybe it was time to head back now. It had only been maybe an hour since he left, but maybe that was long enough. _I don't want to stay here anymore._ Minho hated that thought as he begrudgingly started back the way he came, careful to keep an eye on the beaten path beneath his feet. About five minutes after he started walking, he heard a distant crunching noise. The sound seemed to bounce across the trees, echoing up into the night sky. Minho quickly looked around, his heart beating just a little faster now. _Relax, you stupid klunk. It's probably just a rabbit._ Minho took a deep breath and shook his head, resuming down the path where he left off, but this time he picked up the pace a little. After another few minutes, there was another crunching sound, though it was closer this time. That definitely wasn't a rabbit, it was too heavy to be a rabbit. A wolf then? Minho had never seen one in these parts but he had no idea where 'these parts' really were. Maybe wolves were a thing here. Still, that wasn't good. Minho needed to get out of here and now.

Without looking back, he began to jog before eventually breaking out into a run. His footfalls were heavy but mostly quiet. They were definitely quieter than whatever was chasing him. It was heavy, and the sound of it's footsteps and the snapping of twigs and leaves echoed loudly around him. It almost made it hard to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from, but Minho figured it was somewhere behind him. It was a little odd, though, the sound. It sounded as though something wasn't running after him, but _hobbling_ after him. He couldn't hear much else besides that. There was a faint sound of breathing, but it didn't sound anything out of the ordinary. _Someone is chasing me, but who? And why?_ Minho furrowed his brow and suddenly slammed his feet down, immediately pulling himself to a stop. He huffed as he stopped, turning back to face whatever was chasing him. Now wasn't the time to run. Now he had to face whatever danger might be lurking in the shadows and hopefully get rid of it so nobody else got hurt. _Not again!_

Minho reached out as the sounds got closer, louder, until they were right in front of him. He lunged for whatever it might have been, but he wasn't expecting what happened next. He saw an all too familiar face, staring back at him with a wild expression. Their eyes were frantic and scared, but determined. They screamed as Minho lunged at them, but they weren't screaming in fear. They were screaming a command, their accent as heavy as it always was. "Wake up, Minho!" He couldn't remember what happened next exactly. He just knew that something hit him and then everything faded from his vision. It went dark and eventually sounds disappeared into silence. As he lost consciousness, he could have sworn he saw something flicker in front of him.

Or rather, it glitched. 


End file.
